Perfection.
by Cairnsy
Summary: Sometimes perfection is little more than an illusion.


Author's notes: Thanks again to Kimagure. *hugs* 

**Perfection.**

He twirled in front of the mirror - no, twirled wasn't the right word. Twirling was what women did, or those who with no self-belief were seeing themselves as attractive for the first time. His movements were masculine and breathed of a power and confidence that made his reflection seem even more in control than he was. 

So in control. 

Even when he released his hair from the tight confinements of the leather band, allowing it to flow past his shoulders, it did not rob his frame of any of its beauty or strength, instead adding to it, daring someone to deny that the deep rouge did not bring out the brilliant blue of his eyes, or that it didn't set off a striking contrast to his lightly tanned skin. 

To deny that he wasn't perfect. 

They would have to look deep for evidence that he wasn't. His lankiness was balanced by the power that dodging spells and curses had added to his frame. Oh, he wasn't as solidly built as the twins or Charlie, but he had naught the gangliness of Percy or Ron either. Merely, he was elegant and graceful. Purposeful and sensual. Beautiful. 

But he was so more than that, oh so much more. And he did not need others to fawn over him to know. The one sign of his rebellious nature and his desire to always do his own thing was reflected in the mirror only by the earring that dangled from one ear, and the long, loose strands of hair tucked behind it. The laugh lines around his mouth, the single sign of his content and happy life. The only outward showing of his intelligence, he supposed, was that his clothes were of fine, Egyptian cloth. They were all what mattered the most to him. That he was so accepted, so loved. People found it hard not to like him, he knew. He was always cheerful, always on top of things. 

Always himself. 

He twir ... slid around in a circle once again, admiring each angle the mirror gave. 

That was what they liked the most about him, that he was always himself, and always so funny and friendly and gentle and kind, naturally. He never had to pretend, he simply was. There was no need for masks, when you didn't have to hide what a horrible, unlovable person you really were. 

"Perce, what are you doing?" 

Another reflection joined his in the mirror. Suddenly, his own one dimmed, the dispersion of confidence and poise deserting the figure, breaking the illusion. Gone was the tanned skin, the well-built frame. Without the light, he could see that the fashionable clothes hung limply from him, too large for his own, thin body. Eyes that were usually rimmed in glasses were not as blue as he had thought they were, and the lengthened hair only made him appear more pale and ghostlike. 

"I thought you were going to visit Charlie," he finally said, not turning to look at the other, barely being able to meet the eyes of his older brother in the mirror. 

"I decided against it." Quiet eyes watched him, eyes that weren't worn or dulled from a childhood illness, eyes that sparkled and gleamed. Eyes that he had had, just moments ago. "Perce ..." 

"Do you remember," he interrupted, forcing a small smile onto his face. "Back when we were children? Everyone used to think it was so cute that I would dress up in your clothes, try so hard to be you. They said ... they said that I was sure to be like you, because you were so bright and wonderful. And there was nothing I wanted more than to be like my brilliant, older brother. Even when I was only 5, and you were already at Hogwarts." 

"Percy, I -" 

"And then, when I was getting good grades in my classes, mother used to always be proud of how much I was like you." His smile wavered, but by sheer will power alone, he kept it in place. "And I was so happy, because mother thought everything of you, and you had been so popular at school, surely I would be too, if I was like you. But they all hated me for being a goody-goody. I couldn't understand, because you must have worked just as hard to get the grades you did. 

When I became Prefect, everyone said I'd be Head Boy, just like you. But it became harder, Bill. I couldn't stop being everything they all thought I was, even when I didn't *want* to be what I had become, anymore, because you had done it, and you were wonderful and happy as a result. So I kept at it, knowing everything would come right when I became Head Boy. That all the students would respect and like me, that mother would be proud, that father would finally, finally notice me. That my own siblings would stop looking at me in contempt, that they would instead regard me with love and understanding." 

"Like me." 

"It never happened." He dropped his head, unable to stand the perfect, gentle understanding in his brother's eyes. "I tried so hard, so damn hard," he bit down on his lip, tying to keep the desperation from seeping into his voice, the tears from spilling pathetically. "But you were always you, and I was always me. Just me." He forced the smile back again. "I was supposed to have everything, just like you. That was the promise. It was all that I wanted." 

"I thought you had always wanted a job at the Ministry, Perce." 

He did spin around then, unable to keep the despair and loathing out of his eyes or his voice. 

"The Ministry?! Where they mock me and accuse me of riding on others coattails? Where they don't even bother to learn my name? Where, even there, I'm the fabulous Bill Weasley's lesser, younger brother?" He was yelling now, and the tears were beginning to fall. "No matter what I do, I'm Weatherby, the joke of the Ministry, the stupid rookie who was responsible for Mr. Crouch's death. Hell, why not include Cedric there as well, I know that half of them think that!" Bill's eyes widened at his last comment, and his older brother took a step towards him, worry staining his features. His perfect features. 

"They're idiots, Percy. Surely they don't think that, you're only a kid. Of course it wasn't-" 

"I just wanted to be you," he found himself practically wailing, as he took a step backwards, out of the reach of his brother. "You have everything, *everything*! To just have some of your acceptance, to be loved just partly the way they all do you. But I have nothing, *nothing* that you have. I'm just me." He spat the last word out in disgust. "Just Percy, the fool. Just Percy, the family reject. Just -" 

"Percy, my wonderful younger brother, who I love very much." He wasn't quick enough this time, and Bill caught hold of him by his shoulders. "Percy, who is so intelligent and clever, that he could apply for any job he wanted, and win it over anyone else, easily." He tried to shrug out of his older brother's grip, but like everything about Bill, his older brother's strength was far superior. "Percy, who is far too amazing in his own right to have to dress up in my clothes and pretend to be me to feel any form of confidence. Is that what you were doing, Perce?" One hand let go of a shoulder, gently tilting his head up from where he had let it drop, once again. 

He couldn't work up the energy to fight anymore, nor could he force away the bitter, humiliating tears. Bill was looking at him so gently, with so much love... 

"Don't. Please don't." It almost came out as a whisper. "Whatever you do, don't lie. I can, I can pretend on my own, but don't lie..." 

"Oh, Perce." Bill pulled him into his arms, and for the first time in years he found himself engulfed in a hug from his eldest brother. "How long have you been doing this, coming here while I'm away?" He didn't answer, couldn't stand for Bill to see him as being weaker than he must already seem. He felt a hand brush gently through his hair, and felt it shorten back to it's usual length. It was the last straw, the last aspect of Bill that had been his. 

He let the harsh sobs he had somehow been keeping at bay come, then. Let himself cling desperately to Bill, who only held him tighter, and whispered soft words into his ear. 

"You don't want to do this, Perce. You don't want to be me, it would only be pretend, even if everyone believed it. You need to find the Percy that I know, and let him out to shine more often. You need to find yourself." 

"But everyone will hate him too," he managed to get out. "Of course they will, they hate me when I'm trying to be you, perfect you. Why would anyone ever want to care about someone far less important?" 

"Because even though he might not know it, he is a wonderful person. Besides," practically hearing the smile in Bill's voice, he looked up, noting that Bill did indeed have a small smile on his face. "Besides, he is far more attractive when he is wearing clothes his own size. Although I do think the earring looks rather cute, not that mum wouldn't murder me if she found out I'd said such a thing." 

He laughed. Rather hysterically, but it was a laugh, neither less. 

"I hate it." He mumbled, pushing away slightly from Bill so he could wipe his eyes, his hectic tears now slowing. 

"Hmm?" 

"The earring. I think it's trashy." 

It was Bill who laughed this time, saying something about the fact he must share the same taste as his mother, before Bill swept him back into a hug, again. That he could barely breathe was unimportant, it just felt so nice for someone to hold him. No one ever did. That it was Bill, who should hate and scorn him after hearing all of his uncontrolled and blurted words... 

"I don't understand," he said softly. "You should hate me. I do." 

"Why, because you're human, Perce? We're all scared of being ourselves, sometimes." Bill leaned down, kissing him softly on the forehead. "It doesn't mean we love you any less. Or, that you don't give us enough reasons to love you in the first place." Bill gently reached down and took his hand. "Why don't you stay here for the night, Percy? Better yet, why not see if you can get a few days off, in the morning? I remember last time you were here, you were quite disappointed when we didn't have time to go to one of the museums, because the twins were so eager to see the Sphinx, and you didn't want them to go home without having seen it." 

"I don't-" 

"Not a word, Persius. If you think I'm doing this out of pity, I'm not. Charlie and I were planning on whisking you away for your birthday anyway. We both thought you'd been working too hard. Consider this preparation for your real trip in a couple of months." 

Bill and Charlie wanted to spend time with him? How could they, when no one seemed to want to? And yet... 

He shook his head tiredly, leaning into Bill when he wrapped an arm warmly around his shoulder, and let his older brother guide him towards the stairs. 

"I don't understand all this, Bill. Not really." 

"I know you don't, Perce. But you will, I promise." 


End file.
